Parties and Drinks Long Forgotten
by MythicElf
Summary: Just a little thing I did to experiment with the idea of a Modern!Skyrim. Oneshot, established Male!Dunmer!Dovahkiin x Marcurio but set before Soul of a Dov. T for alcohol and sexual implications.


"Did you get 'em?"

This was the first thing Marcurio heard when he entered the apartment, arms laden with grocery bags.

"Hello, Dal, I love you, too, my day was fine. Sure, I'd love some help with this stuff you asked me to buy," he called back dryly, only half joking, and lugged his burden into the kitchen.

It was only a few seconds before the Dunmer came into the room, brows raised slightly at the sight of the food and supplies spread across most of the free table space in the kitchen. "Gods, you bought the entire store, didn't you."

"Even if it isn't all eaten tonight, it'll be gone by week's end." Marc quipped, smirking, and began putting the necessary items in the refrigerator. "Besides, it's a party. We need lots of food."

Dal put his hands on his hips as his husband rolled up his sleeves and turned away to wash his hands. "You do realize you never answered my question."

Amber eyes hit the ceiling in an exaggerated eye roll. "Yes, of course I bought all the alcohol." It should've been ridiculous how the Dunmer's face lit up at that, but Marc thought it was adorable anyway. "It's over there, next to the oven. Did I buy a suitable arsenal?"

And it took less than three seconds for him to get across the kitchen and inspect the small wealth of alcoholic drinks. "This is _perfect_."

"Of course it is. I always deliver, don't I?" Marcurio had his face in the fridge, searching for something, but the dark elf heard the smirk in his voice just as easily.

"Every time," he chuckled, "Now stop being cocky and start cooking, you, we only have three hours until people start coming."

…

And, boy, did they come.

There was a small crowd of people in the apartment before the clock struck eleven, but they were well-fed and their cups stayed full thanks to Marcurio's conquest of the marketplace down the street. He'd finished all the cooking around the time the first guests started stopping by, so he was able to sit on the couch and chat with his friends. Dal, however, was busy mixing drinks so he was confined to his small palace of liquor behind the table. He'd thought he'd gotten the easy job, but he'd forgotten he wasn't the only one who liked to drink a lot. Between Vilkas, Farkas, and Aela, most of the ale was gone. Which meant he'd be a lot busier for the next hour, since those were the drinks he didn't have to mix.

But sometime around 11:30 Talen-Jei came over and asked if he could help. Dal gladly accepted the assistance, of course, and the drinks the Argonian made were well-liked among the party-goers. Or maybe they just wanted to be drunk when the new year came. Either way, by the time the countdown started everyone had finally moved away from the drinks and towards the tv, shouting so loud Dal swore he felt the floor vibrate with each count. And as he closed the bottles and the syrups, hoping to get it done quickly so as to catch the fireworks up at the College, but once he realized they had gotten down to –

"Three!"

– and he wasn't finished, he gave up –

"Two!"

– and turned to walk out of the kitchen –

"One!"

– but instead walked into a kiss so intense, so hard, that it stole his breath from the very start. And when Marcurio pulled back, eyes dancing and lips smirking, Dal had to blink a few times and clear the fog from his head.

"Happy New Year, love," the Imperial purred, pressing another – less destructive – kiss to his husband's lips before slipping his hand down around the other's and leading him out to watch the fireworks with the others.

After the College had exhausted its supply of explosives and the show was over the guests began to thin out, a few staying behind to help clean up the mess, but they were gone soon enough, too.

"Everyone's gone…" Marcurio purred from behind Dal as the Dunmer opened the fridge one last time, reaching for the bottle of Black-Briar Mead he'd stashed near the back but not quite reaching it as his husband's hands slid up under his shirt. "Let's go celebrate the new year, hm?"

"Not yet. I want to make you something…" Dal stood up on his toes, reaching for the bottle again, actually succeeding this time. He gave it a brief shake before bending down to retrieve a cup of thawed snowberries, chuckling at the grope he had clearly – though unwittingly – set himself up for. When he righted himself and turned to face his husband he was met with another soul-stealing kiss.

Marc nipped lightly at his lip before pulling away. "Don't be long, you know I get bored easily." And he slipped his hand down to squeeze the Dunmer's ass before sidling off in the direction of the bedroom.

… Oh, forget the drink.

That bottle of mead and bowl of snowberries sat on the counter until noon.

…

A/N: Okay, yeah, it was a little late, but I wanted to do a little New Years' story real quick. I kind of like Modern!Dal and all the rest of them… Questions, comments, concerns? You where to go! *wink*

Happy New Year, everyone!

~MythicElf


End file.
